It is never Not a good idea to sail for Tortuga
by Mirakcis
Summary: After being trapped on Isla Perdida, Jack meets a new young ally and sets off in an attempt to regain the Pearl -- and his chance at immortality. Takes place after PotC 3...some improvisation used. XD --OC included, no pairing.
1. Damsels and Jailcells

Hey all. I havent written anything in AGES, but i finally found some killer inspiration (namely Pirates Online, type that in the google searchbar and go nuts, its awesome!!) Enjoy. Theres an OC here, but there will be no pairing as of late. I'm trying to avoid it, but i dunno how long it'll last. Give your comments.

Jack sat avidly in his cell, leaning on one hand; elbow to the knee. He was drifting in and out of a daydream; not tired, rather, too lazy to try and escape, with no window of opportunity. He was contented with the idea that someone would come to save him eventually, or the opportune moment would arise when some ingenious idea would pop into his head, and he would be free. He was stuck in a small port town jail in the middle of the Caribbean, not too far from Port Royal or Tortuga, but just far away enough that there was no hope of reaching either before his ship would meet its maker. The village, on Isla Perdida, was originally a quaint nothing village until the Navy decided to sweep in and regain control from the natives, who put up no battle, and welcomed the rule with open arms. A Governor, his family, and a score of soldiers, maids, and tradespersons followed like a storm, and colonization was occurring faster than anyone (especially the unlearned inhabitants at the time) could count. Jack remembered the story not from any studying he actually did in his lifetime (which, amazingly enough, he had done), but from the supposedly learned Navy soldier who was intent upon educating any and all scum who fell into the hands of the prison guard. 

Just as Jack was reminded of the guard and made a face as if the man were standing in front of him telling him another story or piece of god-awful poetry, the wooden door to the outside world opened, creaking, and closed again. There were very few cells in the small prison, and most of them were filled with either other delinquents or skeletons. Jack wasn't quite sure if they were actual prisoners' rotting corpses, or a washed up skeleton placed in to scare the others into righting past wrongs. Jack mused that it might be the latter option, and almost hoped he was right. His wandering mind was set on track when scores of shoed feet stepped neat, orderly, and almost parade-like down the stone steps. Was today the day? Was he being released? Jack hid his tinge of wanting behind his greasy matted dreadlocks; quickly changing his expression and leaning back against the wall as though he were asleep. He opened one eye ever so slightly, curious as to why there were five or six soldiers in the mossy prison. He noted that one man wandered over to the only empty cell, only to curse that the lock was "damned broked", and that the delinquent would have to be placed in the same cell as "that scum." Jack wrinkled his nose at the treatment received by the dull guard. Did they know who he was? Not just "that scum", but THE scum. CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl…his ship was just commandeered again by the blasted cod-beast, Barbossa. 

On the other hand, did that stupid guff of a prison guard know about the soldier? He would probably lock up the duller guard for a week in private schooling to learn proper grammar. "Broked?" Even Jack knew that the word was broken. He might say broke occasionally, but he knew the proper word; he just chose not to use it. The guards circled Jack's cell door, guns ready and bayonets attached, so that Jack couldn't run away, and the dull guard came around and through with the key. Another guard, whose footsteps could have been heard tramping slowly down the stairs, broke through the circle dragging the body of a young adult in his arms. Shaggy haired, dirt covered, with bloody smudges on the clothes and skin, Jack was unable for the life of him to determine whether or not his cellmate was a he or a she. Or, he mused, an "it." It could be the eunuch that Jack seemed so intent on finding. The door creaked open, and the body was shoved though the cage door and fell on its side to the dusty floor. The guards left and the door was locked up.

Jack waited 'till all of the guards had parted before he made a move. 

"These idiots really 'ought to think about getting some oil for these hinges." He muttered, glaring accusingly at the hinges as though if he were to look away, they would squeak again just to spite him. He heard a feeble groan from the figure who had been thrown into the cell with him, and averted his gaze to his cell mate. Jack hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees, crouching, and gingerly moved some hair out of the person's face. Two bright blue eyes peered up at him, tinted almost violet, and lashed like a woman's. There was dry blood on the girl's jaw, and bags under her eyes. Her cheekbones were slightly sunken from lack of nourishment. Jack's facial expression changed immediately from one of curious amusement to one of sincere empathy. He rose, and offered his mate a hand. She pried herself from the ground of the cell and accepted his hand, pulling herself tiredly to her feet. 

"What's your name, lass?" Jack asked, offering the girl a seat on the small plank suspended on the wall for bedding or seating.

The girl coughed blood onto the dirt-strewn floor, and brushed her dark self-styled bangs from her eyes. "Renée Arkhand." She replied finally, gaining enough strength to rasp a reply. Heavy booted footsteps echoed against the stone walls as several soldiers returned to the cells to deliver the food—namely dry crusty bread and stagnant water. Actually, Jack reminded himself, the bread and water was a little less stagnant and dry, most likely linked to the fact that the island was supposedly too young and the wells too fresh for any bad water or bread. He bent to pick up the water for Renée and offered it to the weak girl. She took the bowl from his hands and greedily slurped at the water. Jack grabbed the other trays and placed them on the wood between them. He picked up his bread and ripped into it with his teeth, tearing a hunk out and chewing. Renée took a hair tie from a pocket on her old vest and tied her layered thin hair up into a ponytail behind her. Her bangs remained in front of her forehead and beside her cheeks, framing her face.

"So," Renée said, gaining her energy, "what's _your_ name?"

"Me? Are ye saying you've never heard of me?" Jack asked, astounded.

"Being stuck on this sorry excuse for a royal port, ye don't hear much of anythin'." Renée replied through a mouthful of bread.

"Fair's that. Name's Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Aaaahhhh," Renée made a sound of realisation which rivalled Elizabeth's. "So _you're_ the one they all talk about. THE Captain Sparrow." She giggled quietly at the ego trip her cell mate was having. "So, _Captain_," She started, once the ego trip had died down slightly. "Where, exactly, is your magnificent vessel, the _Pearl_? And does a scum like me squander any hope of landing passage on said vessel?"

Jack gave the girl an odd look, as though he figured she was merely incapable of intelligent conversation. He was willing to let her aboard, that was, once they found the vessel, but not before toying with her first. "Stand up lass, let me have a looksie." She obediently stood and stared into his black eyes intently. Jack finally got a look at what the girl wore. She had on a stained nightdress, which at one time appeared to have been white. It was now much off this colour, having well outlived its use as a nightdress. She had a vest pulled over the dress, obviously been found or stolen from some chap off the streets. She wore no shoes or boots of any kind, but had pieces of cloth tied around her ankles and heels in replacement. She also wore a long piece of cloth around her waist, serving as a makeshift belt. Jack raised one hand and gestured in a circular motion. 

"Around, around." He muttered, and groaning, Renée did as she was asked. Jack grinned. The woman knew her men alright. But did she ever have a nice rump! Jack inwardly slapped himself, and gestured again. Realising she could obviously not see him, as her back was obediently turned, he spoke up "Alright, I'm done."

"Have a good look?" She growled, showing a hint of amusement. "I should slap ye for that." Jack grinned.

"Indeed I did, my lady. Now, comes more important matters. How good are you at…" Jack trailed off, but pointed at himself and then up at her.

Before he realised what had hit him, he was flat on the dirt floor.


	2. It's the Pearl

Yay! Chapter 2s up! I do believe im on a roll. Please tell me what u think!

Jack spluttered, coughing dirt from his lungs. "I was only joking mate! I meant to ask how good ye were at escaping prison cells."

"Sure you did." Renée rolled her eyes sceptically. "But ye do make a good point. With these disgustingly old cells, I'm sure we could break through 'em eventually." She pulled out a thick knife, and started sawing away at the lock.

"Oi, won' they hear us?" Jack asked, getting worried.

"Heh, are ye daft? Why do you think the lock on the other cell door is "broked"?" She replied, putting finger quotes around the dull guard's bad grammar. "Me uncle did that, before they trapped him up again and sent him to the gallows. He was the last family I had."

After some sawing, where Jack avidly played with his fingernails and sneaked glances at Renée's backside, there was a sweep of quiet metal on metal, where the knife went clean through the lock. She caught the lock in her other hand, so that it didn't drop, and motioned to Jack.

"Now what mate?" Jack asked, eyeing her sceptically. "The hinges squeak." She grinned in response and grabbed the water bowls from the wooden plank. She emptied what was left on each hinge. 

"Seems useless, but we should be able to open them just enough to get out."

Jack went first, tiptoeing out and grabbing his ever-present effects, jamming his beloved hat onto his greasy head. Renée left the door as it was, and followed Jack to where his effects were hanging. 

"Honestly," she whispered, as the other prisoners were sound asleep, "Who in their right mind leaves the belongings of a prisoner in arms reach? Anyone could grab the cutlass or pistol and—Bam!" She jumped, imitating a pistol with her right hand, pointing it right at Jack. She pretended to cock the imaginary pistol, making a quiet noise. "Gotcha mate!" 

"Is now _really_ the time?" Jack asked, reaching for his coat. He stopped, and instead stuck his cutlass and gun in their holsters in his belt, and handed his coat to Renée. Her eyes lit up, as if she never received such a sentimental gift. "Well, go on, you just gonna hold it, or ye gonna wear it?" Renée smiled, and slid the large coat over her arms. It was a tad too long for her, but it fit her lanky arms nicely. 

"Come now," she replied, giving Jack an evil grin. "Is now _really_ the time?" She had once again caught Jack eyeing her spindly frame. 

"One often asks if 'tis ever the time, when the time could be upon us to think why we would even wonder when the time is passing, or has passed, while we wondered indeed what time it is, or was when we began to wonder. Now –" Jack's ramblings were cut off by a loud cannon shot. Both Jack and Renée fell to their knees instinctively, and stood once the shockwave had passed. "We should get going."

Jack staggered to the stairwell as a guard who was hiding in the entrance was hit with a stray cannonball and tumbled down the stairs to lie at his feet. "Oh," Jack stated, pausing comically to lean over the guard's frame. "Effects." He removed the sword and its belt from the dead guard and threw it to Renée. He rummaged through the guard's pouches and found what must have been useful enough that he removed the entire pouch and threw it to her as well. "Oh." He said, in a more serious tone. "One must never wander about unprepared." He reached into a holster on the guard's belt and drew a rather ornate pistol…too ornate for a low level soldier. He went to pocket the weapon when the metal ringing of a sword reached his ears. He swivelled around on his heel to find Renée pointing a cutlass at him.

"Now," she began. "This is hardly the time for fighting, as we're on the same side an' all, but between mates, that's me uncle's pistol, and I'd thank ye kindly if I'd be aloud to have it back." Jack turned on the safety on the pistol and tossed it at her feet. 

"Please, take it. I had no idea." Jack raised his hands in surrender, even bowing slightly. Renée bent over and picked up the pistol fondly. Another cannonball shot through one of the walls into their previous cell. "We…_really_ ought to get going…as in, right now!" The pair bolted for the stairs and within moments were finally at the surface. "Finally," Jack cried happily. "Fresh air!"

"Watch out!" Renée screamed, pulling Jack out of the way as another cannonball found its mark through the stone prison.

"Well, now, I owe you my life twice!" Jack exclaimed. "Once for getting me out of the cell before the first shot hit, and just now." 

"Save the thank you's for later, Jack, we really need to be going!" Renée yelled, and tore across the beach. Jack followed, catching up quickly. Renée scowled as he drew a little ahead of her. 

"Long legs." He exclaimed, looking down at his own. "Wait a moment; I _knew_ I recognized those cannons. It's the Pearl." Jack grabbed Renée by the wrist and kept running, now on course for either a dingy or a pirate he knew; whichever they found first—or found them.


	3. Reunion

Chapter 3 FINALLY UP! wow. ok this is my most recent story but its still been about a year since ive touched it. R&R

* * *

The scraggly pair tore across the cobblestone streets, which were wrought with havoc. Women screaming, children crying, and the men; all in the army, fighting to hold the invading pirates in the streets. However, very few of the corpses in the streets could have called themselves 'pirate'.

Two figures burst through the doors of a human dwelling as it went up in flames, holding bags of trinkets they had looted. They grinned to each other, and the tall lanky one shook his bag experimentally. His shorter fatter counterpart grinned in reply and turned to run back to their vessel. He collided with another person, and his companion froze.

Jack turned around to help Renée as she tripped over a body, and crashed into another person himself. He whirled around to examine his obstacle, and nearly jumped right out of his skin.

"Ragetti!" Renée yelled, running around Jack and his obstacle man to hug the spindly figure. "Uncle and I had been sure you had died years ago!"

Ragetti coughed. "Well, in all sorts of technicalities, I had…but that's another tale cousin."

Reneé sighed and placed her hands on Ragetti's shoulders, staring into his eye. "You survived it, though…not without injury I see."

His companion eased away from Jack, warily. "Oh, er, Captain." He coughed. "fancy meeting you-"

"Here." Jack finished. "Now usually I'd be obliged to killing you, but seeing as I need an escort and safe passage to the ship, same as her-" he pointed a thumb at Reneé "I think I'm willing to make a deal."

"I be-believe that can be arranged, c-captain." Pintel stammered.

"What he means to say is," Ragetti piped up, with Reneé's arms still loosely around his shoulders, "that if you keep us safe, we'll take you to the ship and try to protect ye from Barbossa, right?"

Pintel nodded eagerly. "Yes! That's what I meant!"

Reneé chuckled, but the conversation was cut off by another cannon shot, hitting dangerously close to their gathering. "I think we should get going, now!"

Pintel, needing no further reminding, ran ahead, and before Ragetti could get a hold on Reneé, Jack scooped her up in his arms and followed.


End file.
